Dawn of Tomorrow
by pogo1
Summary: Carter has some tough decisions to make. Includes downhill slides, moments of redemption, rediscovery of the people that matter, and all of that good stuff; please read and review for me!
1. Crossroads

ER - *DAWN OF TOMORROW*  
  
author- pogo (email me a review at pogoER2385@aol.com!)  
  
disclaimer- My pockets are empty, these characters are not mine, nor is anything to do with ER. All I own is an ER coffee mug.  
  
Spoilers- I don't think there are any.maybe some dialog for A Thousand Cranes, but I hope everyone's seen that one by now!  
  
Characters: JC/AL/a little Susan too  
  
Timeline: I guess it's somewhere between when Carter almost-proposed and before Gamma dies.  
  
Summary: Carter has some tough decisions to make. Includes downhill slides, moments of redemption, rediscovery of the people that matter, and all of that good stuff; please read and review for me!  
  
***Special Note: This is going to be long, because this is the fic I work on when I'm uninspired for my current larger work, so if you don't like long stories, don't read! LOL But I do promise I'll try & make it worth the wait.  
  
-chapter one- crossroads  
  
He lies awake, unbeknownst to her beside him. Watching her shallow breathing; the steady rise & fall of her form beneath the cover of the cotton sheets, assures him of the deepest part of her sleeping pattern.  
  
Her face is calm, relaxed. It's a rare thing to behold, and he takes guilty pleasure in being able to enjoy it most every night. She looks like an angelic doll, to him. One like the expensive kind his parents used to bring from Europe for his sister. Beautiful, with her hair falling, slightly waved, as it lays over her ear & down her soft shoulder, and her skin a pale white in the light from the windows.  
  
Sometimes, like right now, he wishes only to touch her; to confirm that she's really real, really there with him. But he hesitates this time, not wanting to wake her from her tranquil slumber.  
  
Watching for a moment longer, he wants to be able to freeze moments like this in time. He could store them away to help them both through those times in their lives when things are less than this serene.  
  
Sighing the last of his sleep away, he turns over beneath the warmth of the covers & rises as quietly as possible so as not to awaken her.  
  
Leaving the cozy bedroom behind, he walks to the kitchen of her apartment. Running a hand through his tousled hair as he passes the clock, it bleeds a bright red sequence of numbers, announcing the early hour as if a death sentence to a lowly victim.  
  
His bare feet walk the cold tile floor as he pads to the coffee maker & starts a fresh pot with all the noise of a stealthy mouse.  
  
Flicking on the switch, he grips the edges of the sink & lowers his head, closing his eyes to the steady drip of the coffee pot.  
  
It had been a night without sleep for him. Even beyond their normal time spent together, he laid awake deep into the early hours of the morning. Watching the shadows traced on the wall from the street outside, watching the small hands of the alarm clock on the dresser creep in the continuous circle, watching her dreams, watching her move closer to him in her sleep, as if seeking something in being next to his body, in her place nestled against his chest. He'd allowed her to; entranced by her subconscious desire to be nearer to him.  
  
How long had it been now, a year? A full year that they'd been together, since they'd found the right time, the time when everything was as it should have always been.  
  
He wasn't sure what was more unbelievable, the fact that they finally got together, or the fact that they were still together today. After all that had happened in the past 365 days; everything that seemed like their own undoing and here they were.it was still so natural, so automatic, so comfortable that she wanted to be near him even in her sleep.  
  
He doesn't wait for the full pot to brew, & instead pulls it off when there's just enough for a cup. Opening the cupboard to his left, he finds his mug in its usual place, next to hers. Cupping the green stoneware mug in his palm, he shuts the door & removes the pot from its place on the warmer. Filling it as much as the content would allow, he replaces the pot & moves to the small square beech wood table. Dragging out a chair from beneath, he sits with his black coffee & watches the slowly rising suns rays creep into the open space of the living room to his left.  
  
The progress isn't notable fast enough, so he turns back to his coffee cup & the swirling black hole inside, the liquid melding & steaming, the scent of coffee grounds wafting up to his nose. He hoped the strength of the unadulterated brew would be enough to awaken the rest of his senses, since they were slow to rise in following of his body & mind.  
  
It was cold, in the apartment. The morning air outside still chilly despite spring's final debut in Chicago; but he didn't feel it. Instead he saw in his mind a warm summer day on the beach, one of those tropical places with a name you can't pronounce. Maybe they both needed to get away; perhaps he should take her on a vacation. Someplace with crystal blue water, snow white sand, and those little punch drinks with bright paper umbrellas in them. If only he could take her away, where no one would find her, nothing could mess up their peace like the dawn of a new day always seems to. If only to go somewhere where she could be free from her family. If only for a week, somewhere where she could let her troubles go.  
  
Somewhere where he could hear her laughter, he could see that smile she gives him only when she is really, truly free. That extraordinary grin that makes his heart feel like it could leave his chest.  
  
He needed to see that again, it had been too long. He feared that the only way to do so was to just leave it all behind them.  
  
But that wasn't exactly easy.  
  
Nothing was easy anymore.  
  
What if, he thought to himself, what if they could just run from it all? What if he called the travel agent & had her book two first class seats on the first flight to Belize going out this morning? No one would know where they went, or when they were coming back, no one could find them.  
  
But, he knew bliss would have to end, as it inevitably always does. When which they would return to the whirlwind of drama & commotion that is their lives in Chicago.  
  
The daylight slowly peeks in the windows, gradually making its way between the maze of crevices between the city buildings & into the reach of the apartment, embracing it in a warm, wakening glow. He stares out at the world beyond from his place at the table.  
  
This has become his home. Where she is, he feels most comfortable, most relaxed. More so, even than at his own apartment, or at his Grandmother's house where he grew up; it's as if every time he stays away, he learns how much he truly belongs here.  
  
Surrounded by her things, though admittedly a mix of his own has accumulated between them in the past year; it's as if he finds a sort of comfort by being surrounded by all things 'her'. It is within these walls he feels needed, wanted, loved, accepted for who he is.without question. Within this space he has spent so much time that when he closes his eyes he can hear the echoes of their laughter, he can hear her cries, and the words he used to reassure her. He can feel the emotions that swirl in this place like much like one can feel a storm brewing on a humid summer evening, it hangs in the air.  
  
And in the past year he's realized how much he had been missing without her. How many gaps were in his life, and all of the feelings he'd never known he could have for someone.  
  
She had been the key; she had been his best friend, his obsession, his savior, his one true love.  
  
She could never truly know what she meant to him, no one could ever fully understand, not even he himself.  
  
"Hey, I wondered where you'd disappeared to." a soft voice speaks from behind his ear as he feels two small forearms rest on his shoulders as she clasps her hands across his chest.  
  
He doesn't startle when she speaks, instead he reaches up to take her hands in his own, and in return feels her put her head against his. He can feel her smiling as she kisses him above his ear.  
  
"Couldn't sleep.." She hears him apologize.  
  
He hears her almost inaudible sigh; she tries to conceal it, but he still feels the shift in her body language. "The offer?" she asks, getting it in one.  
  
He grins slightly at her penchant for reading his mind. "Have you been taking lessons from Madame Loraine on the corner?" he asks, tangling his fingers with hers on the table before him & referring to the local curbside psychic.  
  
"It was supposed to be a secret." She teases quietly, straightening up behind his chair, but letting him keep hold of her hands. She watches him lace his fingers through hers, his palms against the backs of her hands. He runs his thumbs back & forth on the insides of her palms.  
  
"What do you think?" he asks, searching for her take on the situation.  
  
Abby rests her chin on the crown of his head, unhappy with the position he's put her in once more.  
  
"I can't answer that." She replies, noticing the coffee inside his mug is dark enough to be black. He must be troubled, she knows, not to add his usual cream & sugar.  
  
"I know; I just wanted to see if you'd humor me at this early hour." He confesses, trying to crack a smile.  
  
"John.." She calls gently, a bit of a warning.  
  
"I know, I know. It's my decision, only I can make it. I can't let anybody else influence what I want." He recites, repeating all of her usual answers. But he's searching for something more this time, than the just the customary supportive platitudes.  
  
She seems to know this, simply by his tone, and she replies, "I would do whatever I thought would make me happiest."  
  
"Not much of an answer." he replies, unsatisfied as he gives her fingers a squeeze.  
  
"Well, what do you want me to say?" she sighs, pulling her hands from his & taking them back, he feels them graze his shoulders lightly as she moves away.  
  
He turns to watch her go, and she crosses to the countertop where the now finished pot of coffee sits on the warmer. He watches her movements, first to the cupboard where her mug resides, then to the one on the right that holds the creamer. Everything she does is ritualistic, steps of her casual morning habit, but he finds himself just as entranced as ever, following her with his eyes.  
  
She's wearing one of his long sleeve shirts; the casual blue one with the last button missing; her favorite. He'd worn it to work yesterday, so he assumed she'd claimed it as her own when she'd found it on the dresser this morning. She'd pulled her hair back in a makeshift bun, doubling a ponytail in under itself through the elastic band, but several strands still hung free around her face as she worked over the mug of coffee.  
  
Finished adding her creamer, he watches her cross to the silverware drawer, drawing it open & fishing out a spoon, then tapping it shut with her hip. The familiar, trademark action always made him smile.  
  
That was his Abby alright.  
  
She sets the mug down across from him on the table, then draws out a chair of her own, sitting face-off style, to him.  
  
"I want you to tell me what to do." He finally answers as she pulls her chair closer to the table & slips her hands around the coffee mug.  
  
Looking up to meet her eyes he sees a bemused look on her face. "What?"  
  
"Tell me, what I should do."  
  
"You're asking for my advice?" she translates.  
  
"I'm asking for your choice.."  
  
"I can't." she shakes her head, emotionally pulling away. "I can't do that John."  
  
"Just tell me what you want me to do." he urges. "I trust your judgment."  
  
She meets his eyes & adamant replies "I won't make a choice like that for you."  
  
"Abby, what I choose might affect both of us. I need to know what you want."  
  
"Whatever makes you happy, you shouldn't be stuck somewhere where you won't be satisfied."  
  
He smiles at the thought, "Wherever you are is where I'm satisfied."  
  
"You don't work here." She argues. "You need to be sure whatever choice you make; it's something that you want, not just because you think I'd prefer."  
  
"Would you come with me?" he asks, tentatively. He quickly takes a sip of his own rich black coffee so he has an excuse not to elaborate further, or beg.  
  
She laughs softly at the question, "And leave Weaver?"  
  
"Leave it all behind. You & me."  
  
"Don't you think they have all the same problems at Northwestern?" she reminds him. "I heard they've genetically engineered a Kerry clone, so they can have the same power mongering, time efficient, warm & fuzzy chief of staff that we do."  
  
"Then we'll leave town." he muses, his voice wistful as he looks almost past her in his daydream fantasy.  
  
"I'm sure." she laughs, pushing the errant strands of her hair from her face & watching him. She knows the decision of staying or leaving County is gnawing at him, as it has been for the past two days since he got the offer from Northwestern's ER. She can see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch; something isn't allowing him to be himself. The turmoil that his indecision is causing him upsets her even more than it does him.  
  
Secretly, she hopes he'll decide to stay where he is. She knows inevitably that things would change between them, if he left & she stayed on. As much as they would try, things would become different. It would create too much distance for two people who needed each other so badly. Inside, she's scared to let him go, as if the small change in the balance they had achieved would cause more disturbances in their already tempestuous relationship. But she would never tell him such things; she isn't willing to let him know how dependent she is on him.not yet. Nor does she want him to feel as though he has to stay somewhere because of her.  
  
She hopes that he will come to the conclusion that he wants to stay to be with her; not to be there for her or because he has to, all on his own.  
  
"Don't you ever wish you could?" he asks after a time, looking back at her.  
  
"Could what? Leave town?"  
  
"Leave it all behind."  
  
"Just about every other second." she answers.  
  
He notices the slight hesitation, the nervousness in her voice. She's uncomfortable with the discussion.  
  
"So would you come with me?"  
  
Abby looks down at her coffee cup, studying the small ripples she creates in the liquid by rocking it gently between her hands. It's a loaded question, since he's not talking about running away anymore. She doesn't want to answer; because if she says no, it will seem like she doesn't care about him. But if she concedes, she'll seem needy.  
  
So she decides to turn the tables on him, be evasive & put him in the hot seat.  
  
"What would you want me to do?" she asks innocently.  
  
Watching his response, she sees a slow smile creep across his face at the sound of his own words coming back at him. He rubs his unshaven jaw with one hand, looking for any rejoinder he could think of. She enjoys this, watching him search for words, losing at his own game. He tries his best to look thoughtful, though with his tousled head of hair from a sleepless night and his unshaven countenance, he looks more playful than thoughtful.  
  
"Fair enough." He concedes after a moment. He knows that, despite the complaining, she takes pride in her work, and her position as Nurse Manager at County. "I shouldn't have put you in that position."  
  
She leans forward, resting her forearms on the table & looking at him. "No, you shouldn't have." She grins, then becomes more serious. "You'll figure it out John, just take some time. Let them know you'll have your decision in a week."  
  
"A week?" he croaks at the thought. "They want to know by Friday."  
  
At this her face falls, they want an answer from him in two days. "Why the rush?"  
  
"They need to know if they should put an ad in the annals, start a nationwide search."  
  
"So.take the day off. You need time to think it over."  
  
He shakes his head as he pushes his chair back & stands up. "I've been thinking about it for the past two days..and I'm still back where I started."  
  
Unsure of what exactly that is, she asks. "And that's.."  
  
"I want to stay on at County, but I don't want to have to sit around waiting for an attending slot. Northwestern has an open position now, and is willing to pay me more for fewer hours."  
  
"Right," she agrees, "but you have to work nights for the first two months straight."  
  
"But I'd have a stable position."  
  
"You have a stable position at County. Do you honestly think that Kerry would let you go after all these years?"  
  
"You think she wouldn't?" he laughs uneasily. "Nothing's for sure these days."  
  
"Nothing's ever for sure." She reminds him gently, looking up at him where he stands across the table, his hands gripping the back of the railed chair so that his knuckles turn white, as if he needs something to hold on to.  
  
"I have to figure out my priorities. All I know right now is that I want to be with you, and I want to be where I'm needed.and I'm not needed at County."  
  
"You're always needed at County." She nags, reminding him of the desperate straights the hospital seems to always be in.  
  
"But I don't want to have to be a moonlighter or an ICU doc until a position opens up. I don't think I could stand not being in the ER."  
  
"You could consider that a getaway." She suggests, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
He shakes his head slowly & picks up his coffee cup from its place on the table. "That's not the kind of escape I had in mind." He confesses with a forced smile. "Leaving to go to Northwestern would be a big step."  
  
She watches him walk to the sink & empty out what little remains of his mug's contents.  
  
"A big change." she confirms, her mind hinging on the word 'change'. Mostly due to their discussion a few months ago **we're growing.we're changing.**  
  
He seems to hear the word too.being especially sensitive to it since it was the undoing of his almost-proposal this past February. He stops in place, at the sink with his back turned to her, and nods slowly.  
  
"I'm not sure if I'm ready for that big of a change.." He admits, before turning around, & leaning back against the counter.  
  
She raises her eyebrows, a bit surprised by such a confession, & takes a moment before answering softly. "We never know if we are until we already have."  
  
He nods once more, understanding her logic. He knows she's trying hard to keep an impartial stance. She doesn't want him to think she's trying to tell him what to do, or how to do it.  
  
"I guess not." He sighs, moving his hands up & rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
Abby pushes her chair away from the table, stands up.  
  
Carter pulls his hands away after a few seconds to see her standing in front of him, her eyes conveying her concern for him. He affects a hapless smile, bracing his hands behind him on the counter.  
  
She doesn't smile back though; instead she's searching for something in his expression. A clue into why this is bothering him so badly. Why his eyes are dark & his face is lined from lack of sleep, his whole body language reading restlessness, fatigue.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asks finally, putting a hand on his right arm.  
  
He looks down at the space between them, before meeting her eyes. "Am I making this into something bigger than what it is?"  
  
She smiles at his concern, "It's not something you can take lightly, even if you wanted to."  
  
"I just want to make the right choice."  
  
She nods now, giving his arm a squeeze. "You will."  
  
"Thank you." he mutters down to her out of the blue, his voice suddenly very earnest.  
  
Frowning at his serious tone, she laughs. "For what?"  
  
"For listening to me ramble.." He elaborates, leaning back on the counter & drumming his fingers on the edge.  
  
She laughs softly. "There's nothing I'd rather do early in the morning." she confesses as she slips her arms through the space between his own & his chest & steps closer.  
  
He smiles; loving the feeling of her holding on to him, wanting to be near. At least he knows he's needed here. He feels her kiss his chest lightly before settling her cheek against his t-shirt. Taking his hands off the counter, he leans back against it & puts his arms around her small shoulders, one hand fingering the collar of the shirt that she wears at the nape of her neck.  
  
"You look good in this." He acknowledges, with a grin.  
  
"Really.." He feels her smile against him.  
  
"Oh yeah.Probably better than I do." He confesses honestly.  
  
"Well I'd keep it, but that'd mean I'd never get to see you wear it." she muses, then looks up at him & adds playfully, "and that wouldn't be any fun."  
  
He smiles that boyish grin that makes his eyes dance like an enchanted child. He leans down over her & waits till they're millimeters apart, before muttering, "They always say it's good to share."  
  
She can't help but giggle. This close to him; & for all their serious conversation, it all came down to talking about sharing his shirt. He smiles back at her, until he can't take the distance a moment longer. He ends her laughter by capturing her lips with his. 


	2. Searching

-chapter two- Searching  
  
"Abby?"  
  
"Hey." Abby turned in her chair to see Susan walking through the door of the lounge. She had been sitting at the table, chewing on the end of her Bic pen as she planned out next weeks nursing schedule & calculated everyone's clocked hours for the past few days. It had been quiet in the ER, so she had taken advantage of the rare peace to finish up the paperwork she would otherwise have to take home with her.  
  
"Anything new out there?" Abby asks, inquiring to the current patient load.  
  
"Nothing exciting, Gallant's stitching up an eighty year old man who fell off his unicycle in Lincoln Park, but that's about it."  
  
"Just another day at the office."she agrees, turning back to the schedule in front of her.  
  
"What are you up to?" Susan asks, noticing the paperwork as she walks to the refrigerator & stands with the door wide open as she peers inside, searching for her lunch.  
  
Abby watches Susan poke at a blue Tupperware container on the top shelf as if the contents might be alive & jump out at her.  
  
"Just fulfilling my managerial duties.." She answers as Susan fishes deep into the reaches of the fridge & returns to the land of the living triumphantly, with a brown paper bag in hand. Abby notices something scrawled across the front of it in bold black magic marker.  
  
As Susan tosses it onto the table across from her, it becomes readable.  
  
"SUSAN'S" the tall block letters read, with a line below warning, "TOUCH THIS AND DIE" and below that a crude sketch of a skull & crossbones.  
  
Abby smiles at the display of her friend's exemplary communication skills.  
  
"Why do that, when you can play Jerry's Board Darts out there?" Susan gestures in the direction of the admit desk.  
  
"Have you seen Jerry throw those things?" Abby asks. "Yosh found one in the phone booth yesterday."  
  
Susan drags the opposite chair out from the table & sits down heavily. "That's a good point."  
  
Abby turns back to the blank grids of her schedule as Susan unfolds the top of her brown paper bag, withdrawing the components of her mid-day meal from inside.  
  
"That jerk." she hears her hiss.  
  
Abby looks up to see Susan's cross expression.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Your boyfriend, that's who."  
  
"What?" Abby laughs.  
  
"He stole my Twinkie!!" Susan accused, scanning the empty bag once again to make sure she hadn't missed it. "He's been doing it for the past few weeks."  
  
Abby laughs at her friend's dessert dilemma. "It couldn't be Carter, he didn't come in today."  
  
Susan glances up from unfolding the plastic wrap from her bowl of salad. "He didn't? I thought he was on."  
  
Abby nods, "He was. He took the day off to think over the offer."  
  
Susan watches Abby for a moment, as if trying to remember. Her mind finally registers the conversation they'd had a few days ago, "Ah, the offer." then confesses, almost sadly. "I can't believe he'd really leave."  
  
"Me neither.looks like you'll have to find someone else to blame about your missing Twinkie."  
  
"Is he seriously considering it?"  
  
Abby looks pensive for a moment, before responding, "I honestly think he is."  
  
Susan's jaw drops at the thought. "Wow."  
  
"It's really getting to him though." Abby confesses, her concern for him showing in her voice. "He's not been sleeping these past few days. I've actually gotten worried about him. He doesn't know what to do."  
  
"That's a tough call." Susan agrees between bites of her lunch. "I mean it seems like a given, but there's just something about this old crummy place that keeps people coming back."  
  
Abby nods. "It's like investing in a fixer upper."  
  
Susan chews a mouthful of salad, "And that's sugar coating it." she laughs, stabbing her fork in Abby's direction. "What the devil does he think he's going to do without us?"  
  
"I don't know. If he takes it he'll be working the graveyard for the first two months."  
  
"Whoa." Susan laughs, "Big price to pay for posh."  
  
"They have to find a way to afford those marble tiled bathrooms & the leather couches in the waiting area."  
  
Susan laughs at Abby's rather grandiose description of Northwestern's ER. The County staff makes a habit out of glorifying the spoils of a private hospital emergency room, as opposed to the hard-pressed state funded one they call home. "You must have taken 'The Tour' with him."  
  
"Part of it." Abby admits, explaining that Carter took her with him when he toured the facilities as a potential new member of the staff. She also adds the hints their Chief of Staff-tour guide dropped about needing another good ER nurse. "I think he secretly hopes I'd go with him." She confides.  
  
"Would you want to?"  
  
Abby looks away, glancing at the ceiling, at the door, & at the lockers nervously, before answering the question posed. "Honestly...I don't think so."  
  
Susan nods, expressionless, waiting for her to go on.  
  
"I like it here, and I'm glad for the position I've got. It gives me a little bit more cash and it's a couple more vacation days.and Weaver is flexible enough to work around my intermittent family episodes.I don't know if I could get that somewhere else."  
  
"I don't blame you. It's hard to go somewhere new & expect the same comfort level you've achieved elsewhere. It's kind of like being the new kid on the playground & trying to get in line for the slide like you've done it before."  
  
Abby twirls her pen idly between her fingers. "Interesting analogy."  
  
"I'm trying to be poetic."  
  
"So that's what you call it."Abby laughs softly.  
  
Just then, the door bursts open & Malik sticks his head in. "Dr. Lewis, the junkie in 3 has a rash you should look at."  
  
"He didn't have a rash thirty minutes ago. Are you sure he's not just scratching at his track marks?"  
  
"He does now.and believe me, it's a rash." he informs her, before turning away, the door swinging behind him.  
  
Susan turns back to Abby. "Great. I forfeit my hard earned lunch to go see some drug addict's skin irritation." She tosses her fork angrily into the Tupperware dish. Cramming it back into the fridge, she shuts the door & heads for the door.  
  
She stops short though, before opening it.  
  
"Hey, Abby?"  
  
Abby looks up from her work to see Susan looking back at her. "Yeah?"  
  
"I'm here if you ever want to talk.." She reminds her with a friendly smile. "Or if you ever want to go grab a coffee, or a movie, or go shopping.."  
  
"I know..." Abby answers, returning the smile, "Thanks, Susan."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Staring out at the lake from his place at a small café on Lakeshore Drive, Carter watches several boats out in the bay drift out from their moorings & off into the openness of the waters beyond.  
  
Change.  
  
Did he really want to change? He was happy; at County.it wasn't a matter of being content. It was a matter of necessity. He couldn't stand the idea of not being needed. He hadn't went through four years of medical school and six of residency just to be towing the line as a third wheel on the staff. He had the insatiable desire to be where he was wanted, where he was counted on.and as an attending at County he would just be excess baggage.  
  
"Reuben bagel sandwich with a side of potato salad?" the café waiter called to him.  
  
Carter turned & nodded, then thanked the man.  
  
Staring down at the food he'd waited fifteen minutes for, he realized he was no longer hungry. But for 7.50, he presumed he should at least force himself to eat his money's worth. Picking through the contents of his plate, he thinks over his options as he has all morning long.  
  
Abby had left at eight, barely getting out of the door on time after he'd held her up.trying to find any reason to keep her only a moment longer, as if he couldn't be without her. He couldn't seem to let her go, not this morning. She had just laughed & told him she'd have it hard enough explaining to Weaver why he wasn't coming in, let alone coming up with an excuse as to why she'd been late, if he kept her any longer.  
  
He'd been sad to see her go; mostly because he knew when she was gone, he'd be left alone.with just himself and the decision he has to make. When she wasn't there, it was just him & his thoughts, his choice.and the consequences he tried to foresee for each option.  
  
When the silence of the apartment got next to him, he decided to get some fresh air. His wanderings throughout the city had brought him to the small café, Le Dans Foule, which translated to The In Crowd, which they had found one cold winter day when they'd been walking after work.  
  
The inside was nice, a cozy little book & couch café complete with fireplace, but the deck overlooking the lake was its crowning glory. The small pier allowed the patrons to sit on a dock like overhang while waiting to be served, and while dining. There weren't many people there today, maybe because it was a Wednesday, but probably because it was well past the lunchtime hour for the working-crowd.  
  
Managing to get halfway through the sandwich, he finally pushed it away with a sigh, unsatisfied by just about everything these days. He wondered to himself what he was looking for..this whole quest for purpose & meaning.  
  
Is this what it is to have a quarter life crisis? Or was he just being melodramatic about it all?  
  
Getting up from his wrought iron deck chair, he gathers the plastic basket tray & the half-uneaten meal that it contains, & walks to the trash can on the edge of the patio, tossing all but the remainder of the bagel; that, he folds into a napkin & puts into his pocket as he walks on further down the popular Chicago roadway.  
  
Tossing it to the gulls that wade through the small grassy park-like stretch of the roadside near the water, he watches them battle for the prized bread. One near the back to the flock calls haughtily as if jealous that she can't get any of the goods. She sounds a lot like Chen to him, and he laughs at the thought. Humoring her, he tosses one toward the bird & she manages to scarf it down before her competitors.  
  
Chucking one of the pieces a bit to the left of the group, he watches one of the scrawnier birds scurry over frantically to get to it. Just as he closes in within grasping range, a fat one swoops in & dutifully plucks the bagel piece from the blades of grass, leaving the skinny one hungry in his rather large wake.  
  
Carter shakes his head, pitying the small dumb bird. It works the same way all the way at the top of the food chain. The heavyweights always get what they want, and the subordinates just keep plugging away, relentless in their fight to just keep moving forward & survive with what little they are given.  
  
Finished with the hand-outs, several of them crow at him angrily, as if screaming for him to go get more. The others give in & shuffle off to go accost the next innocent human that comes through.  
  
Turning away from the bunch, he checks his watch, realizing he's lost track of the time. The face of his Rolex reads a clear, unmistakable 4:45. Abby gets off at six, he knows, and since he's not quite ready to head back, he keeps walking.  
  
A tour bus roars past, stirring the litter that has accumulated on the side of the street, no doubt on their way to or from the Sears Tower, or Michigan Avenue, or maybe Navy Pier.  
  
Passing through, that's all their doing. A few days, a couple hours here & there.take some photos for the scrapbook, ride the Ferris wheel on the Pier, buy a Shedd Aquarium t-shirt, and they'll go back to the places they come from; an endless circle of strangers. That's all they were to him. They would never know the city, never know the horrors that such an urban mass produces. Sure, they would see the great things.the things that fill the pages of glossy travel brochures, inviting them to come explore the Midwestern metropolis, but they would never know what lies beyond, what lives in the shadows, the dark side of the city.  
  
An Armani suited business man passes him, roughly shouldering him out of the way as Carter stops, in the middle of the sidewalk. The man's heavy cologne hangs, practically dripping from the warm air, even after he's passed. He's chatting away on his cell phone.buy this, sell that.what's the price on that one? Oh God no.Sell sell sell.and Carter wonders, despite his obvious riches & success.does he value his job? Is he fulfilling a purpose? Does he know what he wants??  
  
The only thing Carter knows is that he himself has no idea. He walked around, unquestioning for the past year, serving as Chief Resident, he knew his place. He was serving in the position he'd always wanted, overseeing the residents, teaching med-students, and taking charge.  
  
Now.well, now he didn't know what he was doing, what place he was filling. Funny how one day you wake up and it hits you like a two ton safe. What does he want?  
  
He knows one thing, if nothing else. He knows that the one stable thing in his life has been Abby. She's become his rock, his security, his emotional safe-place. She's listened when he's needed to talk about the decision, backed off when she knew he needed space, and has always done her best to let him know she wants whatever he wants. He appreciates that, and wonders if he's truly let her know how much he does.  
  
Watching the Armani man fade into the distance, briefcase in hand, he wonders if he has something so grand. Does he have someone he goes home to in the evenings? If he does, is it someone he argues with, or only talks business to, or is it someone he really, profoundly, loves?  
  
Stepping to the curb, he hails himself a cab, and the yellow car pulls up to the sidewalk & turns the overhead light off.  
  
Carter opens the back seat door & climbs in.  
  
"Where to?" asks the driver.  
  
Carter names Abby's apartment address, deciding to go back for a few things.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Turning her key in the lock, Abby turned the brass handle of her apartment door, with no response. The door doesn't budge. Groaning aloud, she shifts her purse & throws her hip against the green wood as she twists the knob on her second attempt. The added force does the trick & the door gives, allowing her access to the rooms beyond.  
  
Making her way in, she removes her key ring from the lock & closes the door behind her, turning only the deadbolt.  
  
Pulling her purse off over her head, she hangs it on the coat rack & steps further into the space between the living room & the kitchen, and calls out when she doesn't see him.  
  
"John??"  
  
No response. Apparently he's decided to stay out longer than she thought he would. A quick check of the bedroom & bathroom beyond validates her hunch. She sighs quietly into the empty space, then heads to the kitchen to find something to eat.  
  
He's not right, these days. She knows the weight of the choice he has to make, but she hadn't counted on it affecting him to this degree.  
  
When he'd come home last night he'd looked hollow, almost pained as if from the inside. She wasn't sure if it stemmed from the idea of having to leave all of the close friends he had at County, or the thought of not being in the ER if he didn't.  
  
He'd barely touched his dinner, and had forgone his usual habit of reading the paper on the couch when she'd read a book, to take an early shower.  
  
He had been distant, save the night, when his love for her had won him over. She was glad, that she was able to make him forget, if only for a little while to ease his mind, and to be in his arms. She was glad that, despite it all, he wasn't turning away. He had yet to close himself off to her, and she hoped he wouldn't this time.  
  
Her search for food comes up fruitless, so she walks to the drawer of the desk in the living room where they keep the takeout & delivery menus that they've collected over the past year.  
  
Finding one that sounds appetizing, she picks up the phone & calls, selecting the usual for both of them, just in case he hasn't eaten either.  
  
Setting the phone back in its cradle, she hears his key in the lock & his own weight against the door to nudge it open like she had.  
  
She crosses to the doorway to see him step inside.  
  
"Hey." She calls.  
  
He looks up from taking his keys from the door. "Hi." He greets her, a warm smile on his face upon seeing her there.  
  
She notices his clothes, he's dressed in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, She eyes him for a moment, curious, "Where have you been?"  
  
"Decided to go for a run." He confesses. "Needed to clear my head."  
  
"I hope you didn't clear too much." She laughs, looking at his rather flushed face as he removes his sneakers & pick them up. He walks toward her & kisses her on the forehead. "I'm gonna go take a shower."  
  
She wrinkles her nose playfully, & pushes him away with a hand to his chest. "Good idea." She affirms as he smiles & heads off. As an afterthought, she calls after him. "I ordered Uncle Yao's for dinner in case you hadn't stopped anywhere.I just got the usual."  
  
"Sounds good." She hears him answer from the bedroom.  
  
"It'll be here in twenty."  
  
"I'll be out by then."  
  
She watches him from behind, a fresh change of clothes in hand as he walks to the bathroom at the far end of the apartment. The door closes behind him & she puts her hands in her pockets, her mind reeling, mostly about him.something's off; she feels the change. As far as she knew, he hadn't actually went jogging since last fall, and then had only done so on an on & off basis.  
  
Change, it can be wonderful, but just as easily it can be disastrous.  
  
Walking over to the phone again, she finds the messages collected on the answering machine total a bright red flashing four. She hits the rewind button, & then lets them play in succession as she sorts through her mail.  
  
"Hi, it's Abby. I'm not here so please leave a message.." The first is a lawn care company that apparently doesn't realize she doesn't have a lawn. She presses the blue delete button twice to erase the message. The second surprises her, as she hears John's grandmother's voice.  
  
"Abby darling, is John there with you? I've been trying to call him but he won't answer at his apartment or his cell phone. Please let him know I called," there's a slight pause, and then, "Maybe you can get him to talk to me..thank you, dear."  
  
Abby frowns at the message, wondering what that was all about, though she did have a vague idea. The messages resume.  
  
"This is the Tribune calling about your subscription; we've got a special offer going on right now for only our most valued customers." Abby quickly fingers the blue button & deletes the message, the next is a phone company solicitor, and that voice memo meets the same fate as its predecessor.  
  
"Message five; 6:35 pm." After a mechanical beep, Susan's voice breaks in. "Hey Abby its Sus', I just wanted to let you know.what I said earlier, I meant it. If you need to talk, about anything...I'm here, okay? Plus I got two tickets to the 7:00 showing of that new movie we were talking about for Saturday.let me know if you're in. bye!"  
  
"End of messages."  
  
Susan had been eager to go see the latest movie that contained a man from her self-titled, "Susan's List of Hotties". The list included, but was not limited to; Antonio Banderas, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Harrison Ford, Ben Affleck, and dozens of other big name Hollywood hunks. It didn't matter what the movie was about, or who else was in it, if it met her small criteria, she was ordering tickets & sitting in the front row. She had recently nominated, & then deemed Abby as her movie-pal, and so far Abby had endured seven movies in the past three months.  
  
Abby had never been big on predictable movie romance, or fairytale portrayal, but it was fun. Not to mention that going to the theater with Susan was anything but boring. Once, upon viewing another one of Tom Cruise's most recent box-office bombs, Susan began throwing her JuJu Be's at the screen as he gave the leading lady a passion-lacking kiss, & she succeeded in landing a green one square on Tommy's chin.  
  
Abby had to laugh at the memory of the uniformed usher glaring the bright light of his standard-issue-theater-MagLite at both of them, and giving them the customary warning, complete with the "Or I Will Be Forced To Remove You From The Premises" line. The two of them had affected their best "innocent bystander faces" as they were given the hushed lecture over the dialog of the movie, but couldn't control their laughter once the blemish- faced teenager, who had been no more than seventeen years old, had gotten out of earshot.  
  
Now, evidently she had purchased two tickets to the newest flick on her list of "must sees". This time, it was "Phone Booth", the recently released Colin Farrell/Kiefer Sutherland vehicle, & last week it had been Pierce Brosnan in "Die Another Day." After which they had commenced in (Halle) Berry Bashing, within which the cab-ride home was filled with making fun of her consistently scantily clad character, Jinx.  
  
"Is spandex really all that practical when you're saving the world?" Susan had asked thoughtfully.  
  
Their easily-amused state had mostly been due to drinking too much Pepsi & eating too much sugar loaded candy within a two hour period, but it had been fun nonetheless. Not to mention a good way to lose the stress of the day full of trauma's at the hospital.  
  
Susan had suggested that Abby bring Carter along one of these nights, but Abby was afraid Carter would think they'd both lost all control of their mental faculties if he saw them in action.  
  
He seemed to be content simply knowing that the "Girl's Club" had been disbanded, after Abby & Chen clashed over a prostitute mother & the safety of her two children back in February. If he saw them both at the theater, he would learn quickly that Susan is one of those people who looks & seems drunk, simply when she's on a roll. All Abby knew was that she was thankful they didn't give breathalyzer tests at cinemas.  
  
The buzzer from the door downstairs rings into the silence of the apartment & Abby jumps; caught off guard, before she crosses to the door & presses the speaker button.  
  
"Uncle Yao's, I've got your order."  
  
"Come on up." Abby replies, hitting the unlock button & allowing him entrance.  
  
Pulling open the door a few minutes later, the delivery man greets her, "Hi, Mu Shu Pork, Yang chow fried rice & an order of spring rolls, that'll be twelve-seventy-five."  
  
Abby hands the man the money & thanks him, collecting the brown paper bag & closing the door behind her as she turns back to the kitchen.  
  
Unpacking the servings from their respective Styrofoam containers & onto real dishes, the lyrics to a quiet song drift through the room from the radio set underneath one of the cabinets over the counter.  
  
She assumed that John's grandmother wanted to speak to him about the family Foundation, and that was why he was avoiding her, but she didn't know how she could convince him to talk to her. Last time she'd attempted to offer a fresh point of view on his family-business dilemma, she'd been firmly rebuffed & the otherwise pleasant evening had turned sour, ending in an argument.  
  
She toyed with the idea of not telling him until after Friday, but then decided against it. She would hate herself it really hadn't been about the foundation & she hadn't told him. No, it had to be said, regardless of how much it added to the weight already on his mind.  
  
"Something smells good." She hears him remark. Freshly emerged from the shower, he stands in the doorway between the living room & bedroom, shirtless, he idly ruffles his wet hair with the towel. He looks better, she notices. His eyes seemingly more open than they had been all day, his expression less ..harried; his baggy pair of gray cargo pants resting on his hips as he regards her from where he stands.  
  
"I had a little help." She confesses teasingly, fishing the chopsticks from their place on the counter & setting them at either place on the table before sitting down.  
  
He disappears from the doorway & returns moments later with a well worn green t-shirt on, and his hair still a damp mess.  
  
Sitting across from her, he hears her ask. "So, how was your day off?"  
  
He withdraws the bamboo chopsticks from the decorative paper sleeve & holds them over his food. "Good. I think it's what I needed. I had to get away to weigh my options. It's too hard to think about leaving while you're there in the middle of it all."  
  
Abby nods slowly, fishing a piece of chicken from her Yang chow rice dish & stabbing at it with a single chopstick. Carter plucks one of the spring rolls from the plate between them & sets it on his own, next to his pork as he continues on,  
  
"I'm still not fully convinced, either way. I can't help but think maybe I don't want either of them."  
  
Looking up from the path she'd been tracing through the rice with her chopsticks, she frowns. "What do you mean?"  
  
"What if I don't belong here, anymore? I mean, maybe after serving chief residency it's time to go somewhere else entirely. A fresh start."  
  
"You're considering leaving Chicago?" she asks, feeling herself choke on the words. Why now, of all times, does he decide to get infected by wanderlust? She thinks to herself.  
  
He sees her startled reaction, & tries to backtrack quickly. "It's just an idea, I doubt I would.and don't think I mean leaving you, because I wouldn't do that." His voice is firm on the latter, and he fights to catch her eyes, when he finally does, he adds decisively. "I mean it."  
  
Nervous now, she nods quickly & shifts her focus back to her dinner; taking a sudden interest in the parallel char marks on one of the chicken strips.  
  
"So instead you'd expect me to drop everything & go with you on your wild goose chase for happiness?" she finds herself muttering, annoyed by the thought.  
  
His forehead gains a few more wrinkles as his eyes narrow, trying to understand. "You make it sound like a prison sentence." He says, and she detects a hint of laughter in his voice.  
  
"You make it sound like an ultimatum." She replies, feeling cornered by all of these decisions that lie on the theoretical table. "I like my job, Carter." She informs him. "I don't want to just take off & start up somewhere else. It's not that easy. If you feel you have to, I won't stop you, but I can't just quit. I wouldn't want you to leave me, but I don't want to follow you that far either."  
  
He nods, understanding. Once again he's put her in a hard place, not thinking of how she feels. He's put too much confidence in the idea that she'd never want to be without him..and he forgot she's not that kind of girl. "I'm sorry."  
  
She rests her left elbow on the table & rests her cheek to her fist, averting her eyes from the table.  
  
"I know that you have an important decision to make, but I wish you wouldn't do this to me." She confesses quietly, not meeting his eyes. Instead she picks at the plate in front of her for the rest of dinner. 


	3. Power Struggle

(*note to the reader, I'm no genius at trauma scenes, so I claim zero accuracy to anything wrote in that format. Thank you!)  
  
Chapter Three-Power Struggle  
  
"I'll do the dishes." He offers quickly as she moves to stand & collect them.  
  
"No, that's okay, I've got it." She answers hastily.  
  
As she reaches for his plate he grabs her wrist lightly so that she can't, in an attempt to get her to look at him.  
  
"I'll do the dishes." He repeats, ducking his head slightly trying to catch her eyes with his, now that he's got a hold of her.  
  
Finally she looks at him, and he sees how disturbed she was by his questions. It wouldn't be visible to just anybody, as Abby was a pro at hiding how she really felt, but it was Carter who always saw through all of the endless bluffing. He had just the same ways of hiding & blocking people out, so he knew all of the tactics.  
  
"Okay." She gives in, her voice soft, as though she's barely moved her lips to utter the word.  
He holds her gaze for a few moments longer than he expected to. What seems like silence between the two of them is actually a subtle communication of more than what words could express. It's made up of more than mere sentences, it's composed of emotion, & they read it on each other's faces like a favorite book.  
  
Abby finally realizes she's been staring, and embarrassed, she looks away & pulls her hand free from his grasp of her wrist. She straightens then, & turns to walk away, feeling the sudden urge to find space of her own, out of sight of him.  
  
She walks quickly, the soles of her bare feet smacking lightly on the hardwood floor all the way to the bathroom at the far end, where she closes the door quietly & leans against the back of it. As she'd always believed; if you can't emotionally run from your problems, sometimes physically running helps; she only prayed it would help in this instance too. The only challenge was, she didn't like to be away from him, and just this once, he needed her & here she was fighting him at every corner, like a trapped cat.  
  
He watched her go, until he couldn't see her past the bedroom. Why was it he always stepped on his own toes when it came to speaking out loud what he was thinking? Here he'd suggested wild ideas right in front of her, as if that was the culmination of his day of thought, was a solution to run away & not look back.  
  
Stupid, he kicked himself for being so utterly stupid. Who had he thought he was talking too? This was Abby after all, and neither of them were exactly the most spontaneous people on the block.  
  
Turning the faucet on, he let the water get hot before plugging the sink & adding the dish soap. It hadn't been the way he'd planned the night to go. Why was he unloading all of the tormenting thoughts & decisions that should have been, and are, his, on her? She didn't need this, didn't deserve to have this lost soul that he'd become, to try to interpret & live with. Scrubbing the dishes with the soapy dishcloth, he watched the last traces of the food wash away with the flow of the water from the faucet as it filled the rest of the sink.  
  
If only the problems they faced could be as easily washed away as the  
crumbs on a plate.  
~*~*~*~  
  
"You're grandmother called."  
  
Her voice has an almost echoing quality in the stillness of the living room & causes him to look up from the notebook where he's been making out lists. "What?"  
  
"This afternoon, she left a message." She replies, glancing up finally from her book.  
  
"What did she want?" he asks, looking across at her where she sits on the couch, as he sits in one of the chairs that corner either ends.  
  
Aligning her bookmark in the spine between the two pages, she answers. "Didn't say, but somehow she thought I'd be able to convince you to talk to her."  
  
Her wording & slightly angered tone doesn't go unnoticed to him, he only nods. "And you didn't think I'd listen to you?"  
  
"You're pretty preoccupied as it is." Abby replies, trying hard not to seem as frustrated at him as she is. She tries to remind herself that he's making an important choice & that he's focusing on that, not on little things about her, she shouldn't think anything of what he says. He hadn't really meant it anyway, had he?  
  
She looks up to see him staring back at her through narrowed eyes, not understanding her tone. He sighs & offers up an apology.  
  
"I'm sorry about earlier, I guess I was just thinking out loud."  
  
"Don't sweat it." Abby assures, but the reply is a bit too quick, too abrupt to be genuine.  
  
"It would take a lot to get me to leave Chicago on a whim; I was just stuck in one of my daydreams from today." He bites his tongue then, the thought of how that sounded dawning on him several seconds too late.  
  
She simply stares at him for a long moment, before turning back to her book.  
  
"Abby." he calls, his voice dropping to a lower octave, the one he uses when she's as vulnerable as the finest bone china; threatening to break at any second. But he knows right now she's more likely to break into a run...than to break altogether.  
  
"I said forget it, Carter." She quips, not looking up from the words on the page where she'd placed the bookmark.  
  
Tapping his pen in a pensive rhythm, he watches her for a few seconds before stopping & getting up from the comfortable chair. He crosses the back of the couch, his hip brushing the back of her head as he does so. Her eyes widen, she knows it was an intentional move, as if that would tell her anything useful to the moment.  
  
She watches out of the corner of her eye as he goes to the desk & grabs the phone, but turns back to her book when he turns around.  
  
"I'll go ahead & see what it was she wanted." He informs her, though she didn't ask. He walks past again, this time without touching her & goes into the bedroom so he won't disturb her reading.  
  
Her eyes falling back to the book, she realizes she can't concentrate on it anyway, so what's the use pretending? Stuffing the bookmark into the crevice, she closes the cover & sets in back on the coffee table, reaching for the remote.  
  
An old rerun of Seinfeld comes on after a commercial break & Abby thumbs the volume downward, not really caring to hear the dialog. Curling up along the couch, she folds her legs & tucks her arms under one of the throw pillows, resting her head after this rather trying day. She watches the characters; Elaine, Jerry, & Kramer, in a scene at the diner. She tries to lip read, but then gives up & just fills in the blanks with whatever she thinks of.  
  
It's interesting, to watch television from this perspective. Almost as if abandoning the script that the writer & directors intended, and creating an art form of interpretive TV.  
  
According to her, they're talking about mountain men. She deducts this because two 'm' words they keep mouthing in succession just happen to look like 'mountain' & 'men' to her. So it must be something about Bigfoot, or Sasquatch.no wonder they called this the show about "nothing."  
  
Bored by it all, somewhere between the diner scene & the next scene in the apartment, Abby drifts off to sleep.  
  
Carter ends his phone call to his grandmother by ten-twenty two & walks through the open door to the front room to put the phone back. He notices the volume on the television is down so low you can barely hear it, and a repeat of America's Funniest Game Show Moments plays a clip of an old Art Linkletter flub on the screen. As he walks over to grab the remote & turn off the program, he finds Abby asleep on the couch, now knowing why he hadn't seen her before.  
  
He stands still, for a moment, to make sure she really is asleep before moving any closer. He sighs, exhausted. Between not being able to sleep, & his afternoon run, he's physically worn ragged. Not to mention the fact that he feels like he's let her down yet again; pushing so hard, constantly prodding until she finally shut down on him completely. His heart aches for making her feel this way. This is his burden, not hers.  
  
As she sleeps he touches her cheek gently with his fingertips, tracing down to her jaw line. He inhales slowly & bends down lower to slide his arms beneath her back & behind her knees, scooping her up from the couch.  
  
"C'mon, babe." He whispers as he gathers her, though she doesn't hear him. He can tell that she's sound asleep by how relaxed her body is in his arms, not protesting an ounce as he carries her to the bedroom. She mutters something in her sleep, as he tucks her in beneath the blankets, but doesn't wake. Before turning to go, he stares just a minute longer.  
  
She is the main factor when it comes to his decision; he wants what's best for the both of them. However, he worries this time there'll be no even keel, no right down the middle. It's all or nothing now.  
  
He turns away, reluctantly. He wants to be near her, but doesn't want to lie in bed awake, like he knows he would. He hates the thought of having her awake to that; to do so would trouble her more than he already has. It looks like Linkletter's laughter will be his only company tonight.  
  
Snapping out of a dream, Abby finds herself not where she'd last remembered being. Instead, she's safely tucked away in her bed, beneath the sheets & the covers, still in her blue jeans & t-shirt from the previous day. She lies facing his side.  
  
But his side is empty, something she's had a hard time getting used to. Ironically enough, she takes no comfort in knowing the reasons behind his nightly disappearing acts.  
  
Reclining her head back & gazing at the ceiling, she tries to remember how many nights it's been now. Three? Or did tonight make four? She'd honestly lost count & the mere thought of the unrest taxed her sleep-fogged mind. Regardless, it had been too long.  
  
The clock by the bedside read 1:45 as she drew herself up on her forearms & then climbed out of bed. Standing up, she ran a hand through her hair, which hung down. Walking to the dresser, she blindly searched with her hand for an elastic band. Upon finding one, she gathered her hair & wrestled it back into a loose ponytail, not wanting to worry about how it looked. Not that he really cared anyway, his never looked much better in the middle of the night.  
  
Opening the bedroom door a crack, it took a few seconds for her to spot him. The only light in the rooms beyond was projected by the hazy glow of the streetlamps outside the living room windows. Beyond that the apartment was engulfed in a pitch black cover.  
  
When she saw him, she saw that he sat alone with the shadows, in the darkness that surrounded. She could make out the outline of the back of his head from where he sat on the couch, facing the windows & away from her. Abby sighed quietly & drew the door the rest of the way open, careful not to make a sound.  
  
It was abnormal for his actions to be cause for concern for her. John Carter was a pretty level-headed, practical man when it all came down to it. He wasn't spontaneous, or unreasonable, and he wasn't big on shock value. She'd known that when the insomnia had begun, she really had something to worry about. Something had to be very, very wrong for Carter to react this way to it. Every time she'd watched him eat he'd only picked at his food, as if he was very unsettled from somewhere deep within. She had been thankful to see that he'd managed to eat all of his dinner last night, even if the only reason he had was to replenish his energy after his run. Something told her that all of this went far deeper than just leaving County. This was his own internal struggle for who he was.  
  
No matter how much she loved him, she couldn't help but wonder if she fit into the puzzle he was trying to piece together. She could only pray she was somewhere within the set that builds that jigsaw.  
  
She squinted to see clearer, as she crossed to the back of the couch & put her hands gently on his strong shoulders. He was awake, but jumped slightly at the sudden touch. She sighs, a bit louder than she has before in moments like this, a bit more hopelessly; as she begins to knead his shoulders gently with her hands before dropping to his level, her arms draped across his chest & resting her chin on his shoulder.  
  
"This has got to stop." She whispers into his ear wearily. As odd as it was, Abby could swear she could feel the same drained state that he was in, take over her as well. She was lost in his dilemma, right smack dab in the middle of it all.  
  
He doesn't respond, but instead hangs his head & she hears him sigh. He runs a hand over his face as she moves back up to massage his shoulders again.  
  
He leans back into her touch & tells her quietly. "You should go back to bed, Abby. Don't let me keep you."  
  
She rolls her eyes, & argues. "Maybe I want you to keep me."  
  
Abby hears him smile at that, then watches him loll his head downward in surrendering response to her ministrations.  
  
She moves her fingers gently over the muscles she can feel that comprise the shoulder joints; connecting the clavicles to the scapula, and running down the sternum & out to the upper arms, & stabilizing the neck in place, at the direct mid line of the upper frame.  
  
Abby finds herself surprised at how tight & compressed they all seem to have become; as if he'd been hunching for the past forty-eight hours straight. She works slowly, methodically, to loosen the knots that have formed, hoping to do so would provide at least a bit less pain for him. She could name all of the muscles, formally & informally, but her mind isn't on medical jargon & anatomy tonight. Abby could only wish that the things that comprised this state they were in were as cold, hard, and fast, as the information that filled the endless tomes they'd both covered in medical school.  
  
He lets his troubled mind detach from the rest of himself, if only for these few minutes. Allowing himself to simply feel, instead of analyze. The latter of which he's been doing to just about every piece of information his mind has been fed these past few days. He tries instead to focus on the pathways she takes with her fingertips, feeling the subtle shift of his muscle fibers beneath her steady pressure, the rigidity melting away as she kneads gently.  
  
"How's your back been?" her voice is dark from sleep. The sleep he knows he interrupted, since if it hadn't been for him she'd still be in bed.  
  
His back.his back had been the source of too many circumstances. First being stabbed; and the spiraling depression that followed that incident, then the drug dependency it formed, which turned him into a common day addict in his own workplace. Nowadays, the intermittent periods of pain served as a reminder of how short life really was, as well as a sort of cruel taunt to his own willpower. Every time it ached, he still thought about Fentanyl, and the instantaneous liberation from pain that the drug would give him. But then he thought about the place, emotionally & physically, that would take him back down to, and he didn't want to go back there again.  
  
He wasn't ashamed to admit, it helped that she was there; it had been her who'd caught him and because of her that he'd been sent to a rehab program so he could get clean.  
  
Abby knew what he'd faced, and what he still did to this day. She was the only one he'd ever really told, in detail, about his struggles. She knew of them, she acknowledged them, since she had enough of her own to know what it felt like; but what he loved most was that she also looked past them. She saw him for the man who dwelled within, not solely for the demons he battled.  
  
"Okay." he mutters, hanging his head low to fully enjoy the effect of her massage. She knows he's lying, but remains silent until he eventually elaborates. "Alright, it's been bad lately."  
  
"Did you take some Tylenol?" she inquires, knowing that the minor pain buffer is his only option to combat the soreness.  
  
He sighs, "Yeah, but it barely takes the edge off. I need the whole bottle."  
  
She closes her eyes for a long moment, at his confession, stopping her hands. He knows she's weary of his feeble attempts at joking in moments like these, especially about something this serious. "John."  
  
"I know, I was only kidding." He assures, hoping she'll resume her work. He's relieved that she eventually does so. "How did you know I needed this?"  
  
"I just know." She responds, & he detects a smile in her voice. "But seriously, you really should see somebody, don't let this keep going. Maybe try acupuncture again.anything."  
  
"I can handle it." He pledges, wincing slightly as she touches a rather sensitive place by the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. She notices his flinching, & frowns.  
  
"Does that hurt?"  
  
He closes his eyes tight, knowing she can't see him do so. "No, no, it's just a little tender."  
  
"Why the hell were you out there running then?" she sighs, careful to lighten her touch at the receptive point she'd uncovered. "Thought you could take it, huh?"  
  
She hears him sigh in response, & she lets the conversation drop. There's not much help she can provide for the insomnia, as she knows any drug to help him sleep could become another potential crutch. He may have been clean for the past three years, but she knew how easily that could all change in a single impulse action. She didn't want to be the one to tempt the fates, not with this, not with him.  
  
Eventually her fingers slowly stop motion. She runs her hands back & forth over his shoulders several times supportively, and plants a gentle kiss on his neck, she lingers there as she asks,  
  
"Better?"  
  
"Mmmhmm." He mumbles, unable to find the words. Finally he manages a weak thank-you as she lets go & walks around to the other side of the couch. There, she regards him a moment. Even in the dark she doesn't like what she sees on his face. It's not the man she loves; instead it's the shell of what once was, as if his spirit has gone numb & hidden itself away in the hollows of his heart.  
  
He reaches, just then, for her hand & she allows him to take it, forgetting the tense moments of the evening; silently forgiving him. He pulls gently, like a child at his mother's skirts, asking her to sit with him.  
  
She complies, & he stretches out along the couches length to accommodate her. She falls into place beside him & rests against his chest.  
  
"I'm sorry I can't do more for you." She admits quietly as he encircles her waist with his arm, wanting her close.  
  
"You do more than enough." He assures her, kissing her for the first time that night.  
  
She pulls back then & looks him in the eyes. "You can't keep doing this to yourself though, I mean it. I don't want to see you do this to yourself."  
  
"I'll be okay," he responds, kissing her forehead. "don't worry about me, After Friday this will all be over."  
  
Abby sighs quietly, closing her eyes & resting her palm against his gray cotton t-shirt. "I hope you're right."  
~*~*~*~  
"Dr. Carter?" a voice calls out.  
  
John looks up to see a man in his mid-forties come out of the hallway beyond. He's tall, with jet black hair which is starting to recede, a narrow head with a rather pinched, yet friendly, expression, and a dark mustache that's drawn to a well groomed point at each end of his mouth. Abby would laugh if she saw him; he looked every bit like a character from a comic strip. Carter stood up from his chair & the man reached out a hand to embrace John in greeting.  
  
"Good to see you again Dr. Carter." He says, gripping John's hand in a firm lock. John met the tough grip with his own & looked Dr. Tarrow in the eye & smiled.  
  
"The pleasure's all mine."'  
  
"Now, forgive me but I must ask, what is it that brings you back to our neck of the woods? My secretary is new & she's absolutely terrible, she got peeved on the first day when I refused to call her my administrative assistant." He chuckles at that jovially as he leads Carter back into his office down the wide corridor beyond the small general waiting room. "Now she gets even by only half-recording my messages. Talk about a mess."  
  
"I can't imagine." John smiles back as they step inside the moderately sized office. It's painted a deep business-man blue, with a wallpaper border of ocean scenes, complete with elaborate sailboats. Carter notices several large scale models above the hutch of the computer desk on the far wall.  
  
"Please, have a seat." Dr. Tarrow gestures to the two high backed blue chairs that face his desk, as he moves to sit behind it. "Might I tell you, you're outstanding reputation precedes you. We've gotten nothing but the best from your superiors at County. We could certainly use your expertise & authority at our own emergency room."  
  
Carter was caught a bit off guard by the flattering remarks. "Uh, thank you Sir."  
  
"Oh, politics be damned, Dr. Carter, call me Mike." Tarrow flashed Carter one of his warmest smiles, then leaned across the desk at him. "So what is it you've come to me for?"  
  
"Actually, I've come to discuss the finer points of the position. I'm trying to decide between some really great offers and I'm wondering what is it that would make this 'the one' for me?" Carter knew full well what an outright lie that was, he'd had no other offers. The position at County was simply his if he wanted it, that is, when it became available. He couldn't care less about the finer points, he was just desperate for any kind of sign to tell him what to choose, so he thought maybe by going back, something would hit him.  
  
"Well it looks like we might have to pull out the big guns to bring you in ey? I can't say I blame everyone for wanting you." Mike reaches into a drawer at his desk, pulling out a file which includes the contract & the benefits. Just as he hands it over the tabletop to Carter, his pager sounds.  
  
"That's the ER." He tells him as he pushes back his desk chair & stands up, he walks to the door, preparing to excuse himself when he has a change of heart. "Say, you want to come observe? See our little team in action?"  
  
Carter nearly jumped out of his chair. "Absolutely."  
  
John watched the GSW from the back of the trauma room, gowned for his own protection he watched the doctors & nurses buzz over the patient, running the usual routines.  
  
"Where's the exit wound?"  
  
The trauma surgeon bursts in through the doors, a tall brunette with that undeniable surgeon's authority to her walk. She glances quickly at Carter, no doubt wondering who'd started selling tickets to her trauma, before she's gowned & gloved & stepping next to the patient.  
  
"There, near L2. That's close. Let's get an L spine series, a CBC, type & cross for six."  
  
The nurses rush to the cabinets that John stands in front of, he jumps to get out of the way.  
  
"Whoa, lots of blood in the thoraseal!" a voice warns  
  
"How much?"  
  
"Two liters."  
  
"Holy Crap. Get me the portable ultrasound now!" The surgeon yells bossily over the sudden racket of the monitors. "There, there's a huge liver lac, probably tore the spleen too. Call upstairs get me a room ready, tell Jones to get off his ass & scrub in & if he asks why, tell him cuz Moran said so."  
  
A few tense laughs sound, and then disperse throughout the room. Carter just shakes his head. Watching the entubated patient be steadily bagged, the attending and the surgeon make a final check of sats, before wheeling quickly out of the room, the two med students nipping at their heels, he realizes he's still waiting for his sign.  
  
He shakes his head slowly at himself, wondering what the devil he was thinking. Traumas are going to be run the same here as they are anywhere else, there are good ones & bad ones.  
  
"Can I help you?" one of the nurses asks, seeing him still standing there. Carter tears his trauma gown & stashes it in the trash receptacle. The nurse then notices his visitor ID.  
  
"No, I was just observing, thanks." He answers, giving her a polite smile. She's an older black woman, but she clearly ran circles around the other nurses when it came to the recent trauma.  
  
"Thinking about coming to work here?" she asks him as she finishes her paperwork for the patients chart, leaning against the counter as she pens in her information.  
  
"Is it that obvious?" he laughs nervously, the rest of the room has emptied out, but he remains there with her, curious as to what she'll say.  
  
"Honey, you've got indecision & confusion written all over you." She laughs as she turns back to her work.  
  
Carter turns to go, then looks back. "What do you think about working here?"  
  
"You wouldn't want to ask me, this is the first private hospital I've worked at; been here only eighteen months, I'd worked state run hospitals up until my husband died."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"So what made you come here? What were you.." Carter paused, wondering how to phrase it. "looking for?"  
  
"Oh it's nothing that grand, it's simple when it comes down to it.. I needed the extra cash, and the benefits..we can't live forever.as old Henry sure proved to me."  
  
Carter smiles politely.  
  
"You don't look like you're too worried about your longevity though, you're young enough to still want the excitement."  
  
"You could say that." Carter smirked.  
  
Lowering her glasses, the woman looks at him. "Then that's what you look for."  
  
Walking back out into the main corridor dividing the endless line of private exam rooms, he watches the faces on the passers-by. The doctors & nurses hurrying past, all of them with patients to attend to. Several of them notice him, but most don't.  
  
The faces are all strangers.passing strangers, not a single one the face of a familiar friend that he's grown so accustomed to seeing. It's odd, really, as if he's in a foreign land. He knows the language, but not a soul to speak it to.  
  
Tucking the file folder beneath his arm, he walks past the front desk & towards the doors.  
  
Dr. Tarrow's voice calls after him. "Dr. Carter! Did you need anything else, I can sit down & go through the details if you like."  
  
Carter turns back & shakes his head once. "No, thanks. I think I've seen all that I need to."  
  
The automatic doors whisk open as his feet fall on the motion detecting mats beneath the floor. The warm air of spring stirs around him & he puts his sunglasses on, staring out at the world through tinted lenses that hide the worn look of the people, the buildings, and the streets.  
  
He walks to the el, passing a hot dog stand to his left. The mere thought of food makes him nauseous, and he tries to put it out of his mind & focus on more important matters. He wasn't any closer to finding an answer than he had been twenty- four hours ago; if anything he was more confused.  
  
Northwestern was great, he couldn't ask for a better position. But he couldn't help but wonder what he would be asking for, in the rest of his life, if he accepted it. Was he prepared for the price he might pay for such a change?  
  
Was Abby?  
  
-end chapter three- Please make my little writer's heart flutter and tell me what you think at pogoER2385@aol.com, or write me a review to give me the go-ahead to post the next two chapters! Thanks for reading!! Party on y'all, I appreciate all the help, since I'm still new at this.letting-other-people-read-it- thing, and still working out the kinks in format for this website.please be patient with me!! 


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